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Monthly Archives: July 2014

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1. In the latest addition of nesting guilt and doing my best to make this a fun summer despite my size and general bad attitude, we went to a museum. Accidentally arriving 45 minutes before closing, the reluctant workers let us in even though all 27 of Jim’s attempts to remember his membership name failed. To the Dinosaur bones we went. First, Rita made a great impression by banging on the window of a “Do not enter,” and demanding that the nice dinosaur maker “open door!” Next, I unknowingly and with confidence proved my prehistoric? paleolithic? stone age? idiocy to each of my children repeatedly. Not to brag or anything, but I did get the term herbivore right. As well as “TRex.” Jim’s history channel memory made up for and fun of the rest.

And my proudest moment…

“Did he get that big because he ate all his vegetables?!”

“Yes!!!!!!”

We then accidentally knocked over the “how to make your own rain water exhibit,” when our over zealous one year old got hold of a plastic shovel. We also dropped a lot of the library’s flashlights. Next Rita ran away giggling until she ran into a fossilized mammoth and realized that mom’s thigh is really the best place after all. Upon hearing the words, “the exit is this way” a few too many times, we reluctantly took the hint and the kids went home with a full understanding that the only way to be as big as a dinosaur is to finish their green beans.

A great family day, indeed.

2. In other news: Never leave dumped out pancake mix unattended, even if a really exciting sporting event is on tv. It is the closest children get to summer snow angels. Snow, however, is much easier to clean, even if inside a house.

3. I convinced a kind young usher to give me free VIP seats at Alabama Shakes by simply saying, “I’m pregnant.” While my husband’s attempts to request help for my hurting feet from a unsympathetic female were received with an eye roll, the gentleman’s single and lightening speed look at my belly prompted immediate fear, stuttering, and “sit before you say placenta.” A phenomenal concert, with a phenomenal view, and zero ankle swelling. Thank you, young man!

4. Erica let me write this guest post. And VerilyMag so very generously featured this article.

5. Confessing, with permission, on behalf of my sister, mother of six and next door neighbor:

The building up of water in her gutters prompted a quick call to the roofer. As the skilled worker examined the roof’s perimeter, five of the six children ran underneath and around the latter, throwing out questions and balls, riding bikes, and shooting pucks. As my courageous sister requested her children’s presence in the interior of the home, they mostly abided. The rest came to my house and tried to teach me how to swing a baseball bat. Soon, the cause of the water’s build up was found in disgusting piles of young human fecal matter.

Diapers.

Dirty Diapers.

The Dirtiest, dirty diapers.

Thrown up onto the roof as the result of competitive contests secretly taking place behind her back for the past several months, maybe even years, there laid several soiled diapers more foul than ever. Maybe it is their advanced athleticism that caused them to grow tired of throwing regular balls on the roof. Maybe the thrill of throwing something so foul smelling and full of pink eye bacteria was too difficult to resist for six little boys that will never tire of poop being hilarious. The chant “throw the poop on the roof!” may have caught on quickly. For anyone who has ever been the victim of “chug!” we know its difficult to pass on a chant. Or maybe they were doing their best to get rid of all of their smallest brother’s crap before it stunk up the driveway’s baseball field. Whatever the reason, it was gross.

The experienced roofer stood in disbelief. “Never in my 44 years… You poor mother,” he said with wide eyes to a woman barely able to contain her laughter because what else is there to do?

So the next time its raining, remember, there could be poop in your gutters. And your kids could have put there on purpose.

Like this:

The lackluster attitude with which they picked about an equally lackluster made meal began the spiral of guilt laden pity. Dinner’s contents contained bland and boring ingredients for two reasons. First, the stomach flu is looming and has struck the smallest among us. As my husband grossly reminded, “bland ingredients make for easier puking.” She also has Hand, Foot and Mouth, which makes for an extra disgusting weekend burdened by soiled couches, a lot of screaming, and the amount of drooling that occurs when a baby refuses to close her mouth due to it being filled with sores. To complain further, the second reason is my laziness abounds in the last trimester of pregnancy. And every pound makes me crankier. And there seem to be a lot of those.

Its not like I haven’t made terrible dinners made of mostly burnt food, or skipped the task entirely hundreds of times. It is not that I won’t do it again, guilt free and take-out happy. Yet, tonight, I projected my own, already looming, guilt onto their reactions and absorbed it fully as if it was their intent all along. As if a picky three year old who would likely fake eat and hide a chef’s most delicious creation in the bottom of her backpack in the hopes of still getting ice cream should indicate whether or not my dinner is ok. But, my to- do list is piled high and my energy level lower than ever. A summer, already half over, is seemingly slipping from my reach and am I making it fun enough? “They have only done one camp!” I remembered. I believe that’s actually how to spell BAD MOM…

“Eat your chicken!!!!” I demanded.

Psshhh. Like that works.

Post picked-at dinner, I scrubbed, and washed, and demanded help from kids who can’t tie shoes, and frustration has never left the counters cleaner. I dictated more ridiculous chores and I began scouring the internet for camps, and sports, and the keys to their future. My husband, who is aware of nesting and its’ power to craze, began relay races in the backyard, one-year old toddling included, keeping them as far away from their angry typing mom as possible. As they raced back and forth- curls bouncing, bare-feet cycling, giggles echoing- I missed it all. I did, however, plan out every Saturday from now until this new baby is 6 months old full of ‘ fun activities.’ Crazy nester then began organizing the baby clothes pre-washing schedule, and mentally deciding whether its better to introduce my soon to be two year old to classic ballet, creative movement, competitive gymnastics, or ice hockey because all two year old should obviously be specialized in something other than diapers.

The thoughts continued: Have I missed the opportunity for the oldest to be good at anything by not exposing him to enough summer camps? Will he read on time? Have my small genes ruined him for life? Did I really get the puke out of the couch? Maybe I should buy a new couch. That couch is ugly, anyway. Maybe more cleaning help will make this better. If only I got more sleep. But, I’m so damn itchy! Pregnancy is for the birds. But I love this baby. What will I wear next the second Tuesday of next month? What will the children do when I go into labor? I should start making freezer meals. Freezer meals are gross, a live in chef is the only way. I wonder how I can trick them into more kale. What will I name this baby? Will I go bat crazy by the time I give birth? (yes.) LABOR!!! I CAN’T DO IT AGAIN.

The skipping entrance of Josie, smiling and singing a made up song that included the word “Alleluia,” released me just before I remembered what 10cm feels like and started crying. In her hands are crab apples from a tree in our yard, and as she searches for a container I almost tell her to stop. Why? BECAUSE I’M BEING A GIANT CRAZY SOUR CRAB APPLE.

Maybe God couldn’t resist showing me my silliness through the fruits of my yard’s apple tree, because Eve and all. Or maybe, Josie’s freedom did exactly what it is supposed to, what it usually does, which is to snap me back to remembering joy and forgetting my anxiety. Maybe, I needed to go a little crazy before I realized it’s all ok- fourth baby and all, non-specialized activities and all, boxes of unorganized baby clothes and all, no plans or perfectly scheduled summer and all, so many pounds in my butt and all.

The kids might notice my fatigue, my tiredness, my more- boring-than- normal self. I’m not sure how to reconcile that quite yet, but I would like to avoid the rocky ground on which those thoughts lead as much as I possibly can with as much faith as I can muster. Because tonight I was full of worldly anxiety and came dangerously close to missing the opportunity to incorrectly teach James what a shortstop is in baseball. My pride had to dodge a few “it looks funny when you run with dat baby in your belly, Mama,” comments. Even so, my waddling the chalk-drawn bases certainly made more of a happy impact than my furious internet searches ever could.

There are 11 very hot weeks to go, at most, in this pregnancy. While I’m sure I will complain (I’m positive, actually) and freak out 5 billion times more, I hope and pray to enjoy the kicks and the rolls, and even the fatigue, because there are lessons and missions to learn and fulfill. And three very happy, mostly misbehaving, wonderful children to soak in this summer.

Do you bend down roughly 6 billion times a day picking up various objects on the floor and go to bed each night wondering why your back hurts?

Do you find it difficult to muster the energy or motivation to workout even though you’ve been dressed for it all day?

Do you ever feel like you lack the strength that a mom needs to fulfill daily tasks without pain or discomfort?

Are you in search of getting in shape but have no time to get to a gym?

Do your babies wake up screaming at the first sounds of a workout video?

Is your only space to store workout equipment taken up by toys?

Has pregnancy made your core muscles weak and less effective than you would like?

Do you like me?

Then the MomWorkOut is for you!

I am happy to announce that at this year’s Edel Gathering, yours truly is looking forward to meeting you and making you sweat. It will take place Saturday morning at 8:00am. In my first stint as an amateur blogger who also is also an amateur workout instructor, I will be leading the MomWorkOut. I think it will be plenty of sweaty fun. But, only if you join me.

This is Why I am Excited to lead it:

I am a mom of 3 under 4 with a 4th baby on the way. For me, fitness is much less about appearance, and much more about function, faith and fun. It’s about finding an outlet to relieve stress. It is a chance to realize specific goals in a way that I enjoy and that works with the demands of my daily life. It’s about doing things that are difficult on purpose for God, my family, myself. It’s about having enough strength to lift my babies, enough energy to clean the house and play with my kids with less physical discomfort, especially when pregnant.

Before becoming a mom, working out was tedious, more about feeling less guilty about eating, and mostly horrible. I pushed through lots of cardio, ran a few races, came to love the endorphins. Yet, when I became a mom, I realized more than ever that a body that can give life to the world can surely finish a 10K with strength, grace, and a big fat smile. The guilt about eating, not eating, working out, not working out, running too much or too little began to greatly diminish. Freedom and fun took hold of the guilt and smashed it. I began completing several road races, triathlons and now, I CrossFit. I have grown stronger and happier, and I would like to spread the message.

Here are Five Reasons why you should join me.

1. The Workout is designed specifically for Moms
As moms our bodies are under core strength stress, limited sleep, and demanding schedules. The movements and exercises will be designed specifically with a mom’s body and mental disposition in mind.

2. It is Fast
Diapers! Laundry! Dinner! Cleaning! Carpool! Playtime! PlayDates! ETC! Time is of the essence! The MomWorkOut is meant to be short and intense. We will be done within 20 minutes, yet complete enough work to get us stronger, healthier, and holier.

3. It is Simple
No Equipment. Simple Movement Patterns. At an individual Pace. No Athletic Coordination Necessary. Can easily be recreated in the middle of the family room when Edel is over.

4. It is Free
And you might learn something!

5. It will be Fun
In addition to the opportunity of witnessing a very clumsy 31 Week pregnant woman instruct a workout while waddling as morning entertainment, I promise it will be fun.

Despite my general fear of traveling to cities alone in which I know no one, I’m facing my fear and eager to workout with you! Sign up and spread the word!

3 minutes after nursing my 3 month old, I jumped into a very dirty river and swam with several floating, dead fish. WE CAN DO THIS! SEE YOU AT EDEL!

And for the best Inspiration: A Video of my baby doing burpees

Also, while there is no need to sign up, I would love an email or comment if you are coming! Wear what you want, move how you want, have a blast.